


Grey, white; silver, snow

by Naysa



Series: Snowflakes [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bikers, Cousin Incest, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of College/University, Mentions of War, Military Academy, Set in a wold where dating cousins is totally normal, but still though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naysa/pseuds/Naysa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you love me, won't you let me know? <span class="small">(<a href="http://bringhersafetome.tumblr.com/post/124811564683/modern-asoiaf-au-jon-snow-arya-stark-i-guess-we">x</a>)</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jon

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song [Violet Hill](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvpWJhxp8m4) by Coldplay.

_**Now.** _

There’s a cold wind roaming the air the day that Jon comes back. It’s the middle of december and there’s snow covering everything. White, pure snow; on the rooftops, on the floor, on the trees and the lighting poles. _It’s perfect_ , he muses when he sees it. It’s the north after all, what would the north be without white snow and cold winds?

His plane arrives in the early morning and he hasn’t told anyone he would be home so soon. Robb is here already, he knows, and so is Sansa. Bran will be arriving the next day with his new girlfriend and Rickon is the only one who remains living at home, so of course he’s there.

If he would have called, they would be waiting for him right there at the airport. Robb for sure, at least, and Rickon would like to tag along, obviously. But he has his reasons not to tell. A warm smile pulls at his lips, a smile that hasn’t graced his face in a long time, and he moves swiftly to the other side of the airport.

_She should be there around 8:30 a. m._

He’s carrying little luggage, he likes to travel light, and moves by himself with no problem, dodging through the sea of people. It’s a crowded time of the year, people travelling to see their families for Christmas, and it can be a little chaotic if you are not well-orientated in such a big airport. _White Harbor has always been the center for travelling in the north, it’s to be expected_ , he thinks as he sees people with an annoyed look in their eyes.

Shrugging them out of his mind, he keeps moving and then stops completely, his breath leaving his lungs suddenly. There she is, walking quickly with her head held up high. She is looking out the large windows, smiling when she sees the snow and biting her lower lip in what he knows is an old habit. So there’s my jacket, he thinks when he sees what she’s wearing and notices the leather jacket that loosely covers her upper body. She looks annoyed, he notices, and he wants to laugh. _Of course, it’s way too early for my little wolf._ But she also looks excited and happy and— _gods_ , _she’s gorgeous._

“Arya”, he calls and for a second he believes it was too quiet, he believes she won’t hear him and that he’ll have to call louder. But she stops, abruptly, and looks around bewildered. She hasn’t even found him yet and he can see how her lips form his name.

“Jon?” and then she sees him and her smile widens. “Oh, by the Gods, _Jon_!” Without any further words, Arya drops her bags and runs to him, ignoring the odd looks around her or the people that it’s on her way. She just runs and doesn’t stops until she’s in his arms.

Jon hugs her strongly, almost crushing her against him and he would try to be more gentle if she weren’t hugging him just as strongly. “Cousin dear,” she whispers in his ear in a voice that causes a dwell of emotions on his chest to create a tension that oppresses his heart. He laughs to release it and hugs her even more strongly, hearing her laugh as well.

“I’ve missed you,” their voices mingle together when the words leaves both their mouths at the same time. Arya laughs again and pulls away slightly to kiss his cheek repeatedly, one kiss after the other, soft like breaths.

“I was so happy when I got your call! I was so happy you were safe,” she speaks rapidly, desperate to get the words out and Jon smiles at her endearing behavior. She finally pauses and takes a deep breath. “Are you on block leave?”

It’s the most obvious thing to assume. He’s home for the holidays, but he’ll have to leave after; that’s what everyone will probably think once they see him. The fact that it’s not the truth makes him smile enigmatically.

“No.”

Arya frowns and tilts her head, confused. “You are not?”

“Terminal leave.”

The smile is wiped from her face and her eyes widen. Then, they fill with tears she will not shed. Arya Stark doesn’t let people see her cry and the airport is incredibly crowded.

“You won’t leave again? You are here forever?”

“Well, not forever. I mean, I’m human---” she hits him in the chest and he laughs, delighted at her happy expression. “Yes, I won’t leave again.”

She bites her lip, shakes her head, and hugs him again, hiding her face in his chest. He can feel her shaking but he doesn’t know if it’s because she’s crying or because she’s laughing. Probably both. Her arms are around him, holding him as tightly as she can, and Jon supports his chin on her head, letting her closeness warm his heart.

He sighs because, if he doesn’t, he’ll probably start crying too.

People pass by and stare at them. They all smile. He’s wearing the military uniform, since it was his last day when he left The Wall, and it’s not hard to notice that they all probably know what’s going on. The soldier coming back home to his beloved.

The thought makes him smile, the words _his beloved_ fueling him with even more determination. _I’ll tell her today. I won’t let this carry on in silence anymore. I’ll tell her today._

* * *

_** Then. ** _

“What are you doing?” Grenn’s voice made him pause and Jon raised his eyes to see one of his roommates looking at him bewildered. “Are you—are you cleaning?”

“Yes”, he answered simply and looked down at the kitchen table to keep on cleaning it, the smell of disinfectant floating in the air.

“Okay.”

A few moments of silence passed and then he heard another door open and steps walking towards the kitchen.

“What is he doing?” This time it was Pyp’s voice, sounding confused and tired. Jon sighed and didn’t answer.

“He is cleaning.” He didn’t raise his eyes, but Grenn’s voice came from the same place it had before, so he assumed the guy was standing in the same spot, just staring as Jon cleaned.

“Yeah, I see that, idiot. I’m asking why.”

“You didn’t ask why, fuckhead. You said _what is he doing?_ There’s no why in there.”

“Well, yeah, but I meant—”

“Both of you, shut up.” That was Sam, probably standing in the beginning of the hallway that led to the rooms, just like Pyp and Grenn were. “I think Jon has gone mental.”

Jon sighed again and dropped the cloth he was using to clean. He raised his eyes and stared at his roommates, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I haven’t gone mental, okay? Arya is arriving today and I would like to have a decent place to show to my cousin.”

Grenn blinked, even more confused. “Wait, wait, wait. _The_ Arya?”

“Do I have another cousin named Arya?”

Pyp tried to argue. “You could have another cou—”

“ _Have_ I mentioned another cousin named Arya?”

His three friends looked at each other and then shook their heads. “Nope,” answered Grenn for all of them and Jon raised his arms, slightly exasperated.

“There you go.”

“I thought she was arriving tomorrow,” Sam said and the other two turned to look at him.

“You knew _the_ Arya was coming?” Grenn looked shocked, betrayed even, as if Sam had committed a crime for knowing.

“Why do you call her the Arya?” Jon’s question was completely ignored so he shrugged and kept cleaning.

“Yeah, Jon told us all like three months ago.”

“And you _remember_ that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’d completely forgotten!”

“Well, that’s you. I specifically remember Jon saying she was arriving _tomorrow_ , not today.”

Jon raised his eyes and saw that all three of them were staring at him, waiting for an answer. He moved to the sink and rinsed the cloth.

“There was a mistake with the system in the Braavosi airport. She’s arriving today, not tomorrow.” He turned off the faucet, put the cloth under the sink and turned back to his friends. “And her plane is arriving soon, so I’ll go take a shower and then I’ll drive to Westwatch-by-the-Bridge to pick her up. Please, don’t get anything too messy or too dirty.” He walked to the bathroom and then, as an afterthought, added, “And, _please_ , behave whilst she’s here.”

“Behave how?” Pyp asked, getting a box of cereal from the cupboard. “You said she’s not uptight like most girls. I don’t think our normal behaviour will bother her or something.”

“I know it won’t bother her but,” he stopped, lost for words, and tried to explain himself with hand gestures, pointing to all four of them in a circular motion. His friends looked at him with similar looks of confusion, “you know”

Sam nodded. “She’s your best friend, you want her to like us.”

“Exactly!”

“We’ll behave.” Grenn promised and Pyp nodded strongly, cereals falling out of his too full mouth.

Jon looked at them, not truly believing what they were saying but just sighed, _again_ , and headed to the bathroom. He liked those three and if he knew Arya, which he did, she was going to like them too. He had nothing to worry about.

The sudden sound of glass breaking, Grenn’s laughter and Sam’s voice yelling _Don’t worry, Jon, I’ll clean that!_ had him reconsidering his own judgement.

_Why did I chose to live with those three?_

He showered quickly and got dressed whilst walking through the apartment, looking for his phone, his wallet, his keys, his glasses. The guys just laughed at how he jumped around in one feet, trying to put on a boot on the other; or how he nearly dropped a lamp when he put on his jacket whilst he held the keys with his teeth.

Once he was ready, he opened the door and turned to look at the three maniacs still in pajamas, hanging around in the kitchen. He said goodbye, resisting the urge to ask them again to keep the place clean while he was gone, and walked out towards his car.

The drive to the airport was uneventful, no traffic slowing him down. He made good time and arrived slightly earlier than he intended. He was about to enter the airport when he saw a figure standing outside just a few steps away from where he had parked his car. Jon stopped and smiled when he recognized her.

Arya was slightly taller than he remembered, her hair definitely longer. She was holding a pack of cigarettes in her left hand, one hanging from her lips, her right hand inside her backpack, probably looking for a lighter.

“When did you start smoking?” his voice startled her and she turned around quickly to look at him, her eyebrows raised. Her hand removed the cigarette from her lips as she smiled.

“Jon!” her arms were around his neck in no time and he inhaled his scent as he hugged her back, the familiar smell making him smile in response. Yes, she was definitely taller. They broke apart and he also noticed her skin was now tanned, a soft golden glow where there used to be a silver one. Her eyes were as beautiful as ever, grey sparkling like silver metal and her breathtaking smile was just as he remembered.

“You look different,” she said, her head tilting as he studied him.

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t change the subject. When did you start smoking, little wolf?”

She snorted playfully and placed the cigarette back on her lips, her right hand now holding the lighter she’d been looking for just seconds earlier and used it to light up her cigarette with a quick motion. The tip glowed red as she inhaled and as she stared at him almost defiantly. Jon laughed and shook his head, taking the cigarette from her lips.

She probably thought he was going to put it out and her eyes widened in surprise when instead he put it on his lips and inhaled as well. The tip glowed red again, the cigarette turning to ashes as he consumed it. He dropped his hand to the side and then flicked his thumb against the back of the cigarette to drop the ashes onto the floor.

Arya blinked, still surprised, and then laughed. “When did _you_ start smoking? Or who convinced you to start smoking? It wasn’t Robb, that’s for sure.”

Jon snorted at the image of Robb smoking—his cousin had grown obsessed with health and smoking was probably a sin in his eyes—and passed the cigarette back to Arya. “Ygritte.”

She frowned. “Who’s Ygritte?” when he didn’t answer right away, she arched an eyebrow. “Girlfriend?”

He shrugged. “Sort of. I don’t know if I can call her that.”

She exhaled smoke, passing the cigarette back to him, and bit her lip. “Talking about people that you can’t label as your official partner,” her eyes drifted away, “I’ve been seeing a guy.”

Jon choked and started coughing uncontrollably. Arya patted his back and he passed the cigarette back to her again, trying to hide his surprise under the excuse of the smoke. “You have?” he asked once he could breathe normally again. She nodded.

“His name is Jaqen.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” her eyes were still focused elsewhere and he narrowed his in suspicion. “Wasn’t one of your teachers named Jaqen?”

She took a long drag from the cigarette and answered after a few seconds. “Maybe.”

He groaned. “Arya.”

“What? Is fun!” she looked at him this time, her eyes glowing with mischief. “And he’s hot, and he has this sexy voice that—”

“I don’t want to know more about it,” Jon stopped her hastily and Arya smiled, took another long drag, and blew the cloud of smoke away, dropping the cigarette butt on the floor. “Aside from _Jaqen_ ,” the name came out of his lips like a hiss that he couldn’t avoid, “how’s Braavos?”

“Is not the North,” a melancholic note tainted her voice but it faded as quickly as it had showed up. “But it’s amazing! Endlessly fascinating, the House of Black and White is one of the best places I’ve ever been in. The classes are so much fun, Jon. And you know how much I hate to be tied to a chair in a classroom. I think it’s the best decision I’ve made in a long time”

He smiled. “I’m glad you are happy in your new University.”

“So am I.” Her eyes glinted with excitement now. “How’s the Wall?”

Jon laughed, throwing his head back. Ever since he’d told her he was going to study at the Wall and join the military service, she’d wanted to see the campus, the Wall itself and the place he would live in. He’d been studying now for two years, just starting the third one as she started her first year of higher education in Braavos, and in all that time she hadn’t been able to visit. Catelyn never truly let her; but now she was here, finally.

He grabbed her bag as she accommodated the backpack strapped to her shoulder and led her to the car. “See for yourself.”

Her smile was brighter than the sun.

* * *

 

_**Now.** _

His hand is around her waist as they walk towards the Airport Car Rentals. She’s carrying her luggage in her right hand, her left arm around his waist, as he’s carrying his luggage over his shoulder.

She’s excitedly telling him about her finals in the House of Black and White, and how she has realized she loves numbers even more now and how good she is at history of economic thoughts.

Her voice is fresh and happy and he just can’t wipe the smile from his face. The feeling of peace in his heart, a feeling he hasn’t feel in such a long time, makes him feel relaxed and comfortable. For once, he doesn’t feel like he needs to run, like he needs to hurry.

Suddenly, she realizes towards where they are walking and slowly stops, frowning slightly. “I thought we were going to get a cab. Why do we need to rent a car if we are going to Winterfell?”

He smiles as he looks at her and she catches his intention immediately, her eyes coming to life with curiosity. “Oh, where are we going?”

Jon’s smile widens. “It’s a surprise. Actually, that’s why no one has come to get us. I knew you weren’t going to tell because you like to greet everyone at Winterfell, not at the airport, and I didn’t tell anyone because we are not going home just yet. Not yet.”

She starts walking again, practically dragging him with her. Jon laughs as he tries to follow her.

Arya always loved surprises and gifts.  

* * *

 

_**Then.** _

The bar was more crowded than usual but Pyp and Grenn had saved their usual booth and drinks were already waiting for them at the table.

After picking her up at the airport, Jon had drove Arya to his apartment and showed her around. She’d met Sam there and took some time to rest. Then Jon took Arya, Sam with them, to their favorite bar in Mole’s Town. The establishment lay beneath the ground, like half the town, and was a cozy, friendly place with good live acoustic music. Judging by the look in her eyes, she immediately fell in love with it.

He lead her to the table and both Grenn and Pyp stood up to greet her.

“Little wolf, this is Grenn,” Jon said as Grenn kissed her hand. Arya snorted, “and this is Pyp.” He literally bowed to her and Arya chuckled as she shook her head. “Guys, this is Arya.”

“Nice to finally meet _the_ Arya,” Grenn said smiling widely. He then leaned closer to whisper in Jon’s ear, away from Arya’s hearing range. “You never said she was so hot.”

Jon just smiled trying his best to look nonchalant even though a part of him wanted to growl at his friend, knowing what the look on his eyes meant. _Don’t you even think about it._ Grenn apparently read his eyes and just shrugged in an apologetic manner, smiling amused.

Before they could take a seat, Jon felt a hand on his arm and he turned to see who it was. Blue-grey eyes smiling at him, Ygritte was standing right beside him with an arched eyebrow. She greeted him with a kiss before he could say anything.

“Ygritte.”

She opened her mouth to say something but Arya spoke first. “You are the famous Ygritte? Hi! I’m Arya.”

Ygritte’s eyes lighted up in recognition when she heard the name. “So you are Jon’s cousin,” she threw her head back as she laughed. “You are just as pretty as he is.”

Arya snorted, looking at Jon amused. He could read her eyes. _A redhead?_ He shook his head almost imperceptibly. _Shut up._

“I saw the fanciest car parked outside and I knew Jon Snow was inside,” Ygritte said, still laughing.

“Is not that fancy,” he answered rolling his eyes as they all took a seat; Ygritte on one side of him, Arya on the other.

“Jon Snow?” Arya asked confused and Jon laughed loudly, quickly, to drown the answer of any of his friends.

“Not important, little wolf. Not important.”

By the look on her eyes, he knew she was going to get the story out of him sooner or later.

“Arya, do you drive a car as fancy as Jon’s around your University?” Grenn asked as he took a sip of his beer. Arya took a sip of Jon’s beer, completely ignoring what could be classified as a girly drink in front of her. Drink that Sam took once he saw Arya had ignored it.

“The streets of Braavos are too narrow for a car,” she smiled then. Her crooked, mysterious smile, the one that spoke of trouble. “I drive a motorcycle instead.”

Grenn whistled and Pyp sighed almost adoringly. “I’m your biggest fan right now.”

Ygritte leaned closer to Arya, almost passing over Jon to do so. “Really?”

“Yeah. In Braavos I have the Honda NC700X. Not the coolest but—”

“Safety is more important than coolness,” Jon chimed in, sounding much like his uncle Ned. Arya rolled her eyes playfully.

“I guess that’s why you bought it for me.”

“Exactly.”

“Then why did you buy the other one for me as well?”

Jon sighed. “Because I have issues telling you no.”

Arya giggled, a sound he had heard coming out of her mouth once or twice in his whole life, her eyes sparkling beautifully. He couldn’t help but smile in response.

“He also bought me the Aprilia Tuono V4R, though that one is at Winterfell,” she made a delighted sound at the back of her throat. “The speed on that bike is unreal! Riding the Tuono feels like riding a racehorse. And you guys should hear it purr. Best sound in the whole wide world.”

Grenn looked directly at Jon and said aloud. “Your cousin is so hot.”

Jon just covered his eyes with his hand as Arya laughed loudly. “Gods, I miss the Tuono. Though a friend in Braavos has the Dorsoduro, so I haven’t been Aprilia deprived.”

Jon raised his eyes to look at her. “You’ve been riding the Dorsoduro? That bike is like a raging bull. The slightest input error and the front or back end are going to come off the ground!”

“Yes!” she said excitedly, completely ignoring his mild horror. “Now I ride in only one wheel like a complete pro.”

He stuttered, looking more horrified by the second. “I got you the Honda so you wouldn’t do dangerous shit like that!”

“Oh, come on. You’ve done things ten times more dangerous whilst you were racing your Super Duke.”

All of his friends made a surprised sound at the same time, Sam’s voice rising above the others. “You race motorcycles?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Arya asked innocently.

“I have a KTM 990 Super Duke R back at home and I raced a few times. That’s it.”

“More like won a few times. You raced _hundreds_ of times.”

Ygritte laughed, delighted. “I need to see that someday. Why didn’t you bring that instead of the Audi Q7 parked outside?”

He shrugged. “The Audi is more practical”

“More practical, he says,” Grenn and Pyp murmured at the same time, equal looks of surprise and fascination on their faces.

Arya stood up. “I’ll be getting a few more beers, I drank yours.”

Before he could say anything, Ygritte stood up as well. “I’m coming with you.”

He watched them both walk towards the bar and chat amicably. They seemed to get along. Somehow, a deep, deep part of his heart was annoyed. He couldn’t tell why. Not at all. And, after a while, he denied the existence of that part of his heart.

The drinks kept flowing, though he avoided most of them. He was the designated driver after all. So he watched how his friends got drunk, Arya and Ygritte holding more liquor than Sam, Pyp and Grenn together; and he laughed along the way. He had missed Arya more than he’d realized and now that she was there with him he noticed how much he would miss her once she left. She was in Westeros for just a week and she was spending three days, the weekend, with him, the other four with the rest of the Starks in Winterfell. Not for the first time he wished he could go to Winterfell with her, but he was in the middle of the semester and his classes would continue as normal on Monday.

Following her to Winterfell was not a chance.

The night dragged on and when Arya started showing signs of being drunk, which happened after a surprising amount of alcohol—for someone that could be considered small, it was impressive how much liquor she could tolerate before getting tipsy—, he decided it was time to go home.

They all climbed in his car; Grenn, Pyp and Sam pretty much passing out, but Arya and Ygritte decided to take over the back seat, pushing Pyp against one side, Grenn against the other, leaving Sam on the seat next to Jon. The were laughing and trying to follow the songs on the radio, but neither of them were much of a fan of pop music, and they didn’t know the words. At the end it was just about making noise and moving around.

He left Ygritte in her dorm in Queensgate and started driving home. After Ygritte had gotten down, Arya had convinced Sam to move to the backseat, and she was now sitting next to him. She had put one of his CDs on the music player, hard rock ballads and glam metal coming out of the speakers. She was silent now, one of her hands moving in the air as she followed the rhythm of the sorrowful guitar.

Sam, Pyp and Grenn had passed out completely in the backseat, the three of them tangled together as they slept. Arya turned the volume even higher, knowing it wouldn’t wake them up and reclined her seat a little bit. She turned her head to look at him as he drove and, even though he didn’t take his eyes off the road, he could see her sparkling grey eyes like stars on her face.

He turned left towards the tunnel that would get them home faster and accelerated slightly. Darkness took over the car, passing lights illuminating them briefly and constantly, a light each passing second, as he drove. Jon looked at Arya sideways just as the yellow light passed over her face, the light staying a little bit longer on her glassy eyes.

“Jon,” she called softly, hoarsely.

“Yes?” he asked after he gulped. The sound of her voice had brought memories back. Memories of nights he had forced himself to forget. Memories that tasted like whisky and secrets.

“I don’t want you to date her.”

He didn’t need to ask to know who was she talking about. The part of his heart that had been annoyed when he saw her being so friendly with Ygritte rejoiced in satisfaction. He couldn’t tell why. Not at all. And, obviously, after a while, he denied the existence of that part of his heart.

“Why?” he wanted to say something else, he didn’t know what. Maybe it was for the best if he didn’t say it anyway.

Arya laughed. Her laugh sounded much like pain. “I just don’t want you to. I know is selfish and stupid and—gods, is so stupid.” She turned her head the other way and he grabbed her hand.

“Okay.”

“What?” she refused to look at him, but he knew her whole attention was on him. Her hand squeezed his.

“I won’t date her.” She did look at him then, her eyes studying him through her eyelashes. “But I don’t want you dating Jaqen.”

She smiled. “I’m not dating Jaqen.”

“Dating, touching, kissing, fucking; I don’t care. I don’t want you with him.” His voice was akin to a deep growl, the hand grabbing the steering wheel tightening.

Arya leaned closer to him, her chin resting on his shoulder. “Why?”

“Because it pisses me off.” The honest answer came out of his lips before he could stop it.

She bit her lip and, after a few seconds, sighed. “Deal.”

He gulped. “Deal.”

She leaned even closer and pressed a kiss to his neck. Soft, barely a touch, but it electrified his body all the same. His hand passed from holding hers to caressing her thigh. She nuzzled his neck the rest of the way.

Once they got home, Jon promised himself to carry on with their deal but to forget everything else that had happened in that car. It was for the best.

After all, he just had two more days with Arya.

* * *

 

_**Now.** _

“Why did you hang up?” he asks out of nowhere, but he just can’t keep it in him anymore without voicing it out.

They are sitting in the car as he drives through the kingsroad highway, right next to the train railway that connects the North with the capital and Arya is fumbling around with the map, trying to figure out where is he taking her.

She turns to look at him, the map forgotten on her hands. “What? What are you talking about?”

“When I called you and told you about enlisting for war,” he had thought he hadn’t mind that much in the moment but, the more he thinks about it now, the more he realizes it bothered him, it hurt him.

Arya bites her lip and folds the map in four, putting it in the glove compartment. She reclines in her seat, her hand going through her hair, her eyes on the road. A few seconds pass and then she sighs.

“You called me out of nowhere to tell me you were joining what could potentially kill you,” she sounds shaky. “Wait, no, let me rephrase that: you called me to let me know _you had already decided to enlist._ You had already made the decision and I—” she sighs again. “I hung up because I didn’t want you hear me cry and curse and have a panic attack. So I said _be safe_ and hung up. I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

“You could’ve called after that,” his voice is a mere whisper.

“I did. I called Robb and asked him to keep me posted with everything regarding you. I just couldn’t speak with you. I didn’t want you to say goodbye or something like that. I couldn’t live normally knowing you had said goodbye because you couldn’t die if you hadn’t said goodbye, right?”

He looks at her briefly, trying to hide an incredulous smile.

“Oh, shut up. It was stupid, I know.” She tilts her head. “At least I didn’t hang up when you called me to tell me you were back at the Wall. To tell me you were injured, but alive. To forbid me to go an see you.”

“I was stable and you were in finals and I was mad because you hung up.”

He takes her hand—holding her hand whilst he drives is the only reason he has asked for an automatic vehicle—and caresses her fingers. She looks at their hands and then at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. But I am here now and I am not going anywhere.”

She practically throws herself at him in her haste to hug him and Jon laughs. He keeps on driving, the tension in his chest now gone. Suddenly, he feels Arya smile.

“What?”

“You are taking me to Seagard.”

They are going through the Neck still and he hasn’t even taken the turnoff towards the Twins Bridge, but of course Arya already figured it out. Of course. He smiles and says nothing. She needs no confirmation.

* * *

 

_**Then.** _

Gunshots resonating everywhere, the smell of blood in the air, adrenaline pumping through his blood; ironically, war was just how he pictured it to be. Deadly and stressful, and chaotic. Something he craved to end, something he needed to end.

He thinks back at the moment he decided to join the soldiers heading to war. He had been in training for as long as many of the ones already in battle had been and the only thing he had to do to march north of the wall was join the list of soldiers heading out. He knew he had to, his soul begging him to do it.

It was a war to protect all those people that lived south of the wall and that included the Starks in Winterfell. It was a comfort, at least, to know that Arya remained safe in Braavos.

The Free Folk attacking the Wall was nothing new, so nobody really expected the war to drag on this long. But this time the wildlings had made sure to be ready, they had organized, they had figured out a plan; unlike all those other times they’d declared war.

He still remembered the look on Ygritte’s face when the news spread out. Those were her people out there and she was standing in the wrong side. It was no surprise to anyone, really, when she disappeared not two days later. He had broken things up with her the same day Arya left for Winterfell and they had spoke little after it; but he expected her to leave. He knew she would leave.

And then he had known he would leave too. He needed to fight, he needed to be there, he couldn’t just sit around at the Wall and do nothing.

So there he was in the middle of war, chaos around him, his heart beating against his ribcage. He had to move or he would get shot, but it was snowing too profusely. He was practically blind and the winds were rising.

Just when he finally made up his mind, just when he was about to move, a deafening sound exploded around him. He closed his eyes in instinct, his hands moving to cover his ears.

White exploded behind his eyelids and a buzzing sound took over his ears, growing in intensity till he could hear nothing else. His body felt lighter and lighter and lighter, till he couldn’t feel it at all. The cold he had been feeling decreased and a new smell suddenly reached his nostrils. The smell of salt, and fresh air. The smell of the sea.

His hearing returned gradually. First, the buzzing started to disappear and then the sound of crashing waves invaded his mind. The occasional squealing of seagulls joined the cacophony of sounds. Humid air brushed his hair and he finally opened his eyes.

He was standing on a sidewalk in the waterfront of Seagard. He could tell by the castle in the distance. He looked at the northern sea, brushing the shores meters behind him, drops of water reaching so high it almost touched him up there, leaning against the rail.

A figure joined him in the edge of the waterfront, hands grasping the rail of classic architecture style. He turned to look and Arya’s face greeted him. She was dressed in a grey t-shirt, the logo of some rock band on her chest. The t-shirt was cropped in several places, as if a beast with sharp claws had attacked it. A leather jacket covered her shoulders. It was his. She was also wearing her old favorite jeans and her usual combat boots.

She smiled and he recognized the place, he recognized the moment.

It was the travel to Riverrun, back when he was seventeen. Aunt Catelyn’s father was getting worse after being sick for years and they had travelled south after her. She had travelled with Sansa, Robb and Bran in the train that ran through the kingsroad a day earlier. Uncle Ned, Rickon, Arya and him joined later with the cars.

They’d been travelling for what felt like forever, so Uncle Ned had offered a detour after talking with Catelyn. Seagard was a nice place and they could stop to have lunch and just relax a few hours by the sea. He and Rickon had gone looking for ice cream, even though the weather looked to be getting colder by the minute, and Jon and Arya had stayed behind, looking at the sea.

That day Jon had kissed Arya for the first time. Neither had talked about it afterwards, and both had pretended it had never happened. Of course, it wasn’t the last time they kissed. Not even close.

She took his hands and brought him back from his memories.

“Jon,” one of her hands came to rest on his chest, her eyes calling him in silence. “You can’t leave me without telling me.”

He frowned, confused. “What?”

“You can’t die if you haven’t told me you are in love with me. You just can’t.”

“I don’t think I can control that now, little wolf.” He smiled sadly. _I am dying. A bomb detonated and now I am dying_ , he realized, expecting to feel fear. He felt nothing. If his last moments before dying where next to Arya, he didn’t mind so much. Not now that there was nothing he could do.

“If you love me, won’t you let me know? Won’t you ever tell me, Jon?” her voice pierced through him like a bullet. _Won’t you ever tell me?_

He cradled her face in his hands and looked at her through half-closed eyes. He felt so tired. “You are in love with me too, little wolf. If you love me, why’d you let me go? You let me come to war without saying a word.”

She reached up and kissed him softly. She spoke with her lips still touching his. “I guess we are both at fault. But now is in your hands. Come home. Come to me and tell me you love me. Come home, Jon”.

_Now is in your hands. Come home._

He felt himself drift away, but this time what took him was darkness instead of light. No noise came out to greet him and he fell in a deep, peaceful sleep. He was numb.

* * *

_**Now.** _

It’s a cold day and the sea is restless. They get out of the car and that’s the first thing they hear. The sea, the waves crashing in the shore like the roaring of a beast. Arya smiles delighted.

_She’s always been fond of an angry sea._

They walk together closer to the edge and he takes her hand, their fingers intertwining. She closes her eyes, facing the sea to feel the air on her face. He looks at her. Her face is relaxed, her lips curving on a small, happy smile. Her skin is still tanned because of the Braavosi sun and it seems to shine even though the sun is hiding under clouds today.

It’s not what the majority of people would call a pretty day—the sky is grey, the clouds make everything look darker, the sun is nowhere to be seen—but he thinks is perfect nonetheless.

For a second he thinks about his father. He thinks about Rhaegar proposing to Lyanna, he thinks about the alleged love story that holds so much beauty it’s details remain secret, unknown. The only ones who truly know what happened between them is Rhaegar and Lyanna themselves. And he wonders if his father loved his mother as much as Jon loves Arya. He wonders if Rhaegar used to stare at her mother’s face and think that such beauty shouldn’t exist. He wonders if Rhaegar deemed all the tragedy that surrounded their story as worth it. He wonders what were his father’s last thoughts as he died in that accident next to his mother.

He wonders if Arya and him had been in their circumstances, would have they done things differently?

He thinks they would have. He thinks they wouldn’t be as selfish or as reckless; but he also thinks that that doesn’t mean their love is not as great or not as strong. Maybe even more so.

“You remember the last time we were here?”, the wind carry his words away but she hears them. He knows because she opens her eyes and looks at him, her intense stare studying every detail.

“Yes.”

He smiles and his finger caresses her face. From her cheekbone through her jaw to her chin. She is looking at him intently, waiting for his next move.

When he kisses her, she doesn’t seem surprised at all. She answers him immediately, her hands grabbing the front of his shirt as his arm circles her waist. He tilts her head a little bit to kiss her more deeply and her lips part.

This kiss is nothing like their first one. Their first kiss was an innocent one, doubtful, brief. This kiss is desire hidden for years, this kiss is love kept in the shadows fighting for light. This kiss is desperation and fear, this kiss is relief and happiness, this kiss is freedom.

Her tongue caresses his and they both tremble at the same time. She pulls away, biting his lower lip in the process. They are breathless.

“Arya,” as soon as her name leaves his lips, she’s kissing him again. One of his hand finds his way to the back of her head, fingers intertwining in her hair; his other hand is under her shirt, touching the heated skin of her back. “Arya,” he tries again. She kisses him one more time, this time just a brush of her lips on his.

“Yes?”

He smiles. “I am in love with you.” He laughs once he realizes she has said it with him at the same time and there’s a satisfied glint in her eyes that tells him she already knew.

“How do you know that’s what I was going to tell you? Am I that obvious? Am I that predictable?”.

She kisses him again and he complies happily. He could kiss her all day. The wind swirls around them and she inches closer, seeking warmth. They part for air.

“You are a helpless romantic, Jon. If you brought me here for a reason, it was to tell me that you are in love with me.”

“Where would _you_ have told me?”

Arya shrugs. “The airport, as soon as I saw you.”

He sighs, feigning frustration. “No sense of romance whatsoever.”

“Does that mean we are travelling to Seagard on every anniversary and all that bullshit?”

“Hell yes. Obviously. Every single time.” She’s already wrinkling her face in fake disgust, her eyes holding a mocking edge and he arches an eyebrow. “Even if a have to drag you here.”

She laughs and kisses him again. Jon thinks nothing tastes better but her laugh on his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask why I chose Seagard. I just picked the map of Westeros, looked for White Harbor and then looked for places close to White Harbor and my eyes caught Seagard so, yeah...
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading! And, please, leave a review! I would love to know your opinion about this work. Even if it's just one word, I would appreciate it all the same. I'll write a sequel of this, on Arya's POV this time, but I don't know when so bare with me :) 
> 
> Lots of love!


	2. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I'll write a sequel of this, on Arya's POV this time, but I don't know when so bare with me :)_ She said almost two years ago. It's finally here though (after many petty crises, writer's block and overall whining that [Sapphire_blue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_blue/pseuds/Sapphire_blue) had to endure (ily, you are too good for me) and got me out of) and you know what they say: better late than never.
> 
> So, yeah, do enjoy. Please.

**_Now._ **

The day, though cold when they got there, is slowly growing warmer. The sun still hides under the heavy clouds but there’s this breeze that seems to carry the sunlight through the air and soon Arya loses the jacket, choosing to leave it inside the car.

They’re no longer standing on the sidewalk of the waterfront that guards all the shore, watching the angry sea. They drove off south with the windows down, away from the high cliffs and closer to the beach. Arya’s hair is a mess because of the wind, she couldn’t care less.

They parked as close as they could to the sand and the sea seems calmer here with no rocks to clash against. It lazily rolls towards the sun in a gentle murmur that has Arya closing her eyes peacefully. The breeze doesn’t carry as much water as it did up there at the cliffs, close to the historic castle, but the heat still feels humid, thick. It feels as if winter is starting late this year, even when White Harbor had been lying under a mantle of snow that same morning, for Seagard carries the dying summer with the parting spirit of spring.

Winter yet is nowhere to be seen and even though Arya has missed the cold with every fiber in her body, Braavos has made her enjoy a warm weather more than she would admit. She sits on the hood of the rented car and Jon is lying right beside her. Both his hands are behind his head and she thinks he’s watching the sea.

Turns out, he’s staring at her.

She arches an eyebrow in silent question when she notices where his eyes lay and Jon smiles wickedly, carrying a secret. She has to ask.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

He seems to be digesting an idea and she waits in silence for the reveal. “Is not that cold anymore.”

An obvious statement is not what she’s expecting. With a fond shake of her head, Arya laughs softly. Jon seems to draw pleasure from the sound.

“I noticed.”

“And we haven’t had lunch yet.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“And the beach looks lovely today.”

“Yeah, I must agree with that.”

He sits up, looking excited, and Arya draws closer to him, mimicking his actions without even meaning to. He cradles her face with one hand, looking at her fondly, and Arya can see that glint in his eyes. The one he had when he was about to kiss her before her brothers could sneak up on them, the one he had back at the Vale when the snow locked them inside that little cabin near Longbow Hall and there was nothing but each other and a bottle of local whisky to keep them warm, the one he had as he drove through the tunnel from Queensgate to Castle Black.

She loves that glint and she waits with fragile breath to hear what will come out of his mouth.

“Go out on a date with me.”

Her smile starts slow, as if every muscle in her face is slowly processing what he has said, and she loves this romantic fool. “Oh?”

“Yes, go out on a date with me. We’ve never done that.”

“Dating?” she asks, looking at him through her eyelashes, trying to hide the incredulous smile. With their history and every memory they carry in their hearts, he cares about traditionality. “A first date?” Jon nods and then stares at her, patiently awaiting her answer. “And when would this date be?”

“Right now,” the answer is out of his mouth as soon as Arya has finished talking and she pauses, blinking slowly.

“Right now? I’m here with you already, yet you ask me to go out with you on a date… right now. This already looks like a date, you know.” She wrinkles her nose as if she’s breaking a hard truth and fears his reaction. Jon doesn’t even budge.

He is smiling in a very boyish gesture that is oh, so charming. He knows it, Arya is sure, that’s why he smiles like that. He nods at her and she huffs before laughing, nodding too.

“Is that a yes?” he presses, his grey eyes that are just a tiny bit darker than hers seem to be dancing. It feels as if they are in vacation and Arya has the feeling Jon wants to drag it out, this freedom, for a little while longer. Once they get home, it won’t be just them, it’ll be the whole Stark bunch and the extras; a term that used to be uniquely in reference to Theon and Jeyne Poole and that has recently extended to the Westerling Jeyne, Margaery Tyrell and now Meera Reed (Arya wonders idly when Rickon’s plus one will be added to the list). It’ll be different than just enjoying each other’s company and even though they both love their family, they have always been the misunderstood ones, the odd couple out of a tight knit family that seemed to have everything figured out.

But right now is just them.  

She doesn’t try to hide her smile anymore and nods again. “Yes.”

If possible, Jon’s smile gets wider.

* * *

**_Then._ **

Jon’s room was a safe haven, had always been.

It was the whole place in the whole Stark household where Catelyn Stark would never wander in, even if she knew Arya was hiding from her in it.

Catelyn’s relationship with Jon had started shaky, uncertain, awkward. Everyone said so, even if Arya had never been there to see it at its worst. Ned liked to talk about how Arya had brought them, Jon and Catelyn, together into a real bond when she was a reckless child that wouldn’t let Jon go for a second. However, every Stark knew it had built over the years as he grew up and Catelyn started treating him more and more like a son, a gradual bond between the two.

But old habits die hard and the awkwardness of the beginning had forced them both to have a very clear limit: Jon’s bedroom. It was his space and, even after all those years, Catelyn never wandered in (once, when she had been scolding Jon and he had just walked into his room, Catelyn had stood outside, even with the door wide open, screaming hoarse about Jon’s punishment without attempting to cross the threshold).

So Arya hid in his room a lot. All the time for whatever reason she would come up with and sometimes with no reason at all.

She was lying on his bed, her feet resting on his pillows, her head at the foot of the bed and her hair hanging towards the floor. She was holding a book above her, her arms outstretched fully as she carefully stared at the colorful illustrations of Queen Nymeria even though she had seen it thousand of times before. She looked towards the door when Jon walked in at smiled at him brightly as he closed the door behind him.

That’s when Arya, even upside down, noticed the tense muscles of his shoulders and how his eyes were glued to the floor. She dropped the book next to her on the bed.

“Everything okay, Jon?” her voice was light, cheerful. That tone would always make him smile.

He didn’t this time. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, the other hiding inside the left pocket of his jeans. He looked worried. “Arya, there’s something I need to tell you.”

She sat up at that, turning around so she was sitting crossed legged, staring straight at him. He came to stand at the foot of the bed, right in front of her, but made no further movement.

“Sure, what is it?” Sure, she was worried now, but made an effort to not display it. He lifted his eyes to hers.

“I—” he paused, gulping, and her eyes followed the movement of his throat for just a second and then snapped back to his eyes. He wasn’t looking at her, though, not directly, his gaze far away and Arya had a bad feeling about the whole thing. “I’ve known for a few months and I should’ve told you sooner and I just—” a heavy sigh and she hated that sound, “I didn’t know how.”

Arya was starting to lose what little patience she had at fifteen and just huffed nervously, squirming a little, moving her legs restlessly. The mattress complained under her movements. “Just spit it out, Jon. The truth. Just tell me.”

“I got accepted at the Wall.”

Ouch. Okay, Arya wasn’t sure what bothered her more. The fact that he was leaving (that was the tiniest part, she knew he would leave eventually, she wasn’t _stupid_ ), the fact that he had kept it a secret for so long or that he looked so goddamn worried now that he was telling her.

They had talked about this before, what they wanted to do after high school. Jon had talked about Wintertown University, so conveniently close to Winterfell they would be able to see each other as often as they wanted. Robb was going to Wintertown, so was Theon and it was the easy choice. Arya had known Jon wanted more but had kept quiet all the same, quietly pretending she didn’t notice the brochures about The Wall lying on his desk.

Over time it started to hurt a little how he never brought it up, how he would talk to uncle Benjen about it behind her back but keep quiet as soon as she walked into the room (Arya had her ways of knowing thing and yes, it involved using Bran’s nature of just knowing and Rickon’s willingness to crawl under tables and then reproduce conversations he had heard whilst in hiding). And now he had applied and gotten accepted and kept it all quiet, all a secret.

It stung a little bit. Also made her a little angry. Over all, just made her frustrated.

She decided to ignore it all. She pushed the little ache of her heart down and jumped, her arms finding their way around his neck like she had done thousand of times, and she hugged him a little tighter than necessary (he was the stupid one, he deserved it). “Jon!” she exclaimed, cheerfully because those were good news, even if Jon was an idiot, and they should be happy about the whole thing. “That’s amazing! Oh, I bet the Wall’s so _cool._ ”

He laughed, sounding like whatever had driven him to be nervous was leaving his body as he did so, and held her tight in return. Arya kissed his cheek, thousand of fleeting kisses on his skin, and he laughed a little harder in the midst of the carefree attack. But then her mouth wandered to close to his, almost touching his lips, and both froze at the same time, their breath hitching in their throats and making a harsh sound that left way to an expectant silence.

Jon spoke, or more like whispered, right above her lips, his breath ghosting on her skin. Her eyes drifted close as she breathed in. “Yeah, it’s amazing.”

Arya looked at him then, her lashes almost caressing his skin as her eyes fluttered with the movement. She had wanted to see his eyes, to see what he truly meant in such a toneless, almost melancholic voice, but his eyes were aiming downwards, towards her lips even though he was too close to see them clearly.

She was suddenly scared.

“Will you come back?” she asked a little breathlessly and thanked the heavens when her voice didn’t quiver with the needy tone the question had in her mind. It also felt a little stupid, childish, but she _had_ to ask.

Jon frowned at her question, his eyes still stuck in her lips. “To you?” it was just a whisper and the husky undertone of his voice was delicious. Arya just nodded, her nose rubbing against his as she did so. Jon drew a shaky breath. “Always.”

She exhaled, relieved. “Good.”

And then she kissed him breathless.

* * *

 **_Now_ **.

He refuses to tell her what he’s planning at first.

Using his phone, he searches for something on the internet as Arya stares intently at his hands, eyes swaying towards his face every few seconds. There’s this little crease between his eyebrows as he furrows them and she notices how no lines form on his forehead as he does so. His long fingers dance above his phone’s screen, and she’s mesmerized, hypnotized by the graceful way he moves them. Softly, a little part of her mind wonders if he would’ve been a good pianist. Rhaegar was a musician after all and even though every physical aspect on Jon screams Stark, those close to the Targaryen heir say his son shares his expressions, his mannerisms, his voice. Maybe his musical talent, too.

After a few seconds, he looks up at her and smiles, small and demure and a little bit nervous and Arya wants to tangle her fingers in his hair to kiss him fiercely, to wipe out the uncertainty from his face.

She smiles, wide and unbound and truthful, instead. “So?”

“Get in the car. We need to buy some things first.”

They roam the town in a daze. They don’t look like a lovesick couple, they so _don’t_ , but Arya won’t deny there’s a lot of hand holding involved (they’ve been doing that for years anyway, since they were children, so that’s nothing new).

Jon drags her to a department store and he buys cushions and a huge blanket and Arya just smirks, asking if this is his sneaky way of asking for a quickie in the car, and Jon stops for a second just to give her that _this is serious_ look. She smiles and shrugs and he rolls his eyes, smiling too.

“But, seriously, it’s a _possibility_ , you know. Like, _I am willing._ ” Arya stresses the words so he’ll get it (the gods know he can be dense sometimes) and Jon chokes a little.

“We are not having sex in a rented car!” and he says that too loudly in a crowded store and Arya loves the flush on his cheeks as he tries to hide his face under his hair. She just smiles, devilishly, and Jon is fighting back a smile. “You did that on purpose.”

“You are just too easy.” Then, as an afterthought, she adds: “I still meant it, though, so...”

Jon grumbles something that remarkably sounds like _“don’t tempt me”_ but he refuses to repeat it when Arya asks so she’ll never know for sure. He’s not done planning this impromptu date so the thought leaves her head as he drags her to the car and to another unknown location in search for what he needs.

He parks in front of a supermarket and asks her to wait in the car when he goes in. She’s already making up a speech in her head about how long she was kept waiting alone in the car just because she likes surprises but she hates _having to be patient_ for them. Jon comes back too soon with a single bag hanging from his hand (the speech so far is just saying _Jon_ in a whiny voice so she drops the whole act).

They drive back to the beach and Arya is bouncing on her seat. She hadn’t been nervous for her first date back when she was sixteen. Nor really excited either, actually. And, partly, she had agreed because Sansa kept pestering her about it.

Now she has agreed on her own. Now she’s both nervous and excited and just moved by the gesture.

And it’s all Jon’s doing.

It’s always Jon.

* * *

**_Then._ **

She had been playing with Rickon in the backyard when Jon and Robb had come back home; Robb carrying a secret smile and Jon looking like a child at Christmas. He had taken her hand, muttered an apology to Rickon and dragged her through the house and out the front door. He made a beeline towards his motorcycle, the classic Super Duke that was already showing the signs of repetitive use and time through the carcass, and wordlessly gave her the old leather jacket she liked to use and the helmet he kept safe for her.

Arya, terribly curious, had complied without saying much, climbed behind him and held on tight as he took her away. Not a hint, not a word, just a smile and for her it was enough. He drove through the street that left Winterfell Manor, taking the curve towards the hills of the Wolfswood and the deserted roads that went through them.

The roads they liked to raced on at nights that were so late it was early. She had been there once, to see Jon take first place with breathless ease as he drove through the pavement as if it was air and he was flying, a roaring bird of steel, flesh and bone. He took curves in sharp movements, faster than she had ever seen him go, but through it all with an elegance that seemed so… _his._ Fearless, more reckless than usual, and just glorious.

She had wanted the same immediately. The speed, the danger, the elegance. She wanted to fly and she wanted to _win_ and she wanted to be a bullet through the road. Unstoppable, free. But Arya was only thirteen and Robb had looked utterly terrified at the suggestion, Jon had looked thoughtful but disapproving and the only one that seemed on board with it was Theon (he had looked even more excited than Arya was herself, muttering about how much money he could make betting on her because he just knew she would be _savage_ on the road. He was right, she would’ve been).

At the end, obviously, her request had been denied, her desire forbidden. She wanted it even more and Jon never knew how to say no, not to her.

The next race, Jon hadn’t climbed the Super Duke alone and from then on every race he had won it had been with Arya’s arms around his waist.

One last race, it seemed, just the two of them and she was _living._

He was leaving soon and lately Arya had let the facade of complete happiness drop a little bit more every day. Everything he needed had been packed, she had helped with some of his stuff, and every paper was in order for him to start a new life further north. Her sadness felt selfish and childish but it just wouldn’t go away. Jon would, though, and that was the whole goddamn problem.

She held on a little tighter as he took a curve, the motor roaring around them, and she hid her face on the leather that covered his back. Now, though, she felt careless. Jon was here, she was here, and the wind was carrying them away together. She could forget about sadness for a while, about selfish thoughts and childish fears and the little self-loathing that crawled into her mind whenever she felt any of those things.

He was going fast but her heart was beating faster. Their regular circuit went on for several minutes, circling the hills and drifting through woods of ancient trees so fast everything was a blur of green and blue and black. But he was slowing down way too soon and Arya blinked, surprise.

Then, she saw it. The silhouette waiting next to a truck in the berm of the right side of the road, there were the space was wider as the road turned into another curve. Jon came to a full stop on it and Theon beamed at them both.

“Delivery for Jon and Arya Stark!” he called cheerfully, both hands dramatically aiming towards something that had been partly hidden next to him. Arya got off and moved to get a better view, gasping once she saw it.

“Oh, dear gods,” was the only thing she said and Jon laughed behind her. Before her in all of its glory rested a Aprilia Tuono V4R, one of the fastest (if not the fastest all together) motorcycles on the market. Adrenaline taken into something tangible, she had wanted it so bad she had _dreamed_ with it. “Oh, dear _gods._ ”

“Do you like it?” Jon asked, Arya felt like fainting.

“Is it _mine?_ ”

He only nodded and Arya was staring at it again with unrestrained wonder. Oh, the things the beauty before her could do. The speed it could reach and, my, how she could _fly_ riding that thing.

Theon next to her snorted. “Okay, I’m gonna give you time with your new lover, Arya.” Arya only nodded, lovingly caressing the chassis. “But first, and this are Jon’s rules, that’s why they are so boring, a few things:” he raised a finger, “no, you are not racing with this thing alone without Jon here which is a fucking _shame_ because—”

“Just stick to what we agreed to, Theon.”

Greyjoy sighed the most fake sigh in existence and if Arya hadn’t been so enraptured by her new baby, she would’ve laugh. Theon raised another finger: “no, you cannot come here just to ride it through the hills alone either. Robb has to be with you and no, you can’t come either just with me because nobody fucking trusts me in this goddamn family.”

“Three years ago,” Jon muttered as a remainder. Theon rolled his eyes.

“That’s in the past, everyone should get over it and stop whining because everyone was _fine._ ”

“You burned down the—”

“Three!” Theon interrupted him loudly, raising another finger, “you must promise not to let Rickon into our illegal footsteps. Which, again, it’s a shame because we _all know_ that boy could—”

“Theon!”

“Goddamn it, okay! I’m done!”

Arya did laugh this time and turned around to stare at the both of them. “And why are you, of all people, telling me the rules?”

“Yes, Theon,” Jon answered instead, standing with crossed arms and looking too stern for his own good. “Tell her why.”

Theon looked both annoyed and chastised at the same time. “Because I promised not to encourage you to break the rules so I must know them as well as you.” He recited the words as if they have been repeated to him over and over again, forced to learn them.

“Good.” Jon proclaimed, seemingly satisfied and Theon rolled his eyes.

“Okay, I’m leaving. Have fun, for once.”

He climbed into the truck and drove away towards Winter Town, leaving them alone in the cold woods, two motorcycles ready to spring to life. Arya smiled, giddy with excitement and Jon seemed to catch her mood, his eyes coming to life with glee.

“The rules say I cannot race alone without you here.” Arya carefully declared, Jon nodded. “You _are_ here.”

His eyes never left hers. “Exactly. Do you think you can win in a race against me, little wolf?”

They took off into the woods minutes later and no race had ever been this fun.

She won. He claimed beginner’s luck.

* * *

**_Now._ **

After having to wait a little longer in the car while Jon sets something up on the sand, Arya finally has a little peek of what’s going on.

She’s just scrolling through the internet on her phone when a soft knock on her window calls her attention. She turns to look and a delivery boy is looking at her, holding a box of pizza and smiling awkwardly and… _okay?_

The window scrolls down and she raises an eyebrow in question. The boy squirms a little.

“I was told to deliver this to the red car with this license plate so…”

Arya just tilts her head. “Uhm, I think my boyfriend ordered that…”

And before she can offer to climb down the car and look for him, Jon literally shows up out of nowhere. “I did! Thank you!” He just shoves money into the boy’s hand, taking the box from him. “Here, you can keep the change.”

The boy just blinks, nods and walks away with just a muttered thanks, climbing into a really old motorcycle, a poor, beaten Honda ANF 125 that looks like absolute _shit_ and Arya can’t stop the disapproval from shining on her eyes (you treat motorcycles with _respect_ , damn it). Then she turns to look at Jon and he’s just staring at her with this _look_ and her stomach flutters and she doesn’t know what she has done to get that look and _holy shit_.

“What?” she asks a little breathless, a little self-concious.

“You called me your boyfriend.”

“Oh?” Now she’s a little embarrassed too. “And you are _not_? ‘Cause if you don’t want to be—”

“I _loved_ it.” He interrupts her speech right away. “I love that I am.”

She huffs, trying to hide the blush she can feel growing on her skin. “Yeah, whatever. You are _such_ a sap.”

Jon is just smiling and he opens the car door for her, pizza box still in hand. “Well, ready for our first date?”

She forgets about the whole incident, perking up at the thought of _finally_ knowing, and climbs out of the car excitedly. “Yes! Pizza!” She might be bouncing on her heels, wild hair around her, but if anybody asks, she’ll deny it.

He huffs. “Of course, it’s about _the food._ ”

She smacks him in the arm as the door closes behind her. “Shut up.”

They are walking towards the beach and that’s when she sees it. Jon has built a little nook with the blanket and the cushions and there’s this little LED lights that people use on christmas and _when the fuck did he buy those?_ There’s also a cooler with a sixpack of her favourite brand of beer inside and he’s carrying pizza and she can’t shake the thought that this is perfect.

It’s lovely and _sappy_ and lovely and Arya has to roll her eyes and chuckle nervously at the same time because _Jon._ But it’s also simple and easy and comfortable and that’s what makes it even better.

Of course, she runs to it, all the time telling Jon to _hurry the fuck up because pizza!_ And this is them. Simple and romantic (Jon lives for it) and honest and them.

Once they are all set, she looks into his eyes. “I love this.”

Jon smiles. “I love _you_.”

Arya rolls her eyes, open the pizza box ( _oh, yes, extra cheese)_ and mutters: “So sappy.”

Her phone vibrates in her pocket just as she grabs a slice of pizza. She takes it out with her free hand, watching glorious cheese stretch almost eternally as she pulls the slice away from the box, and sees Bran’s name blinking on her screen. She unlocks the phone and moans low in her throat: glorious cheese tastes as good as it looks. Jon laughs in front of her, lying down partly on the cushions he brought and partly on the sand, and she blows him a kiss playfully.

_ Bran _

_“Hey, I just got home and I thought you were getting here before me. Where are you?”_

She quickly types out a response and blocks her phone.

_Arya_

_“Seagard with Jon.”_

She hasn’t even taken a second bite, her phone still in her hand, and she feels it vibrate again. It’s a longer message this time and _god, this kid types fast._

_Bran_

_“Oh, Jon’s on block leave? And what the hell are you two doing in Seagard? Buying ice cream? I mean, Seagard does have the best ice cream of Westeros.”_

She rolls her eyes playfully and Jon nudges her thigh with his foot, silently asking her what is it. She types.

_Arya_

_“Yes, Bran. We went all the way to Seagard for ice cream. My sweet summer child.”_

She sends it and then takes another bite just to answer Jon with a mouth full of pizza. She’s completely sure she looks so attractive right now. “Bran. He wants to know why I’m not home. Can I tell him you are in terminal leave?”

Her phone vibrates again, she decides not to answer right away. Jon talks right before taking a bite. “Please, don’t.” He shakes his head as he eats and part of her marvels at the fact he understood all those mumbled words that managed to get out of her mouth among all that heavenly cheese. Of course, he has the decorum to swallow before talking. “He’ll tell Robb and I want it to be a surprise.”  

The phone vibrates a second time. Arya is getting her second slice of pizza out of the box, nodding in understanding for Jon and, again, rolls her eyes as she feels her phone in her pocket. Jon watches her carefully and Arya thrives in how much she likes the way his eyes feel on her, even during something as boring as just eating pizza.

She checks her phone this time.

_Bran_

_“???”_

_“Oh. OH. I get it now. Use protection sister, mom would freak out if you get pregnant.”_

And the pizza comes flying out of her mouth.

Jon raises his eyebrows, cheese on his cheek, and then bursts out laughing so hard he has to put his slice of pizza down. Arya feels strangely proud, even as she furiously types a response. She’s known for being the only one that can make Jon smile and laugh like that with minimum effort.

He wipes the cheese off his cheek.

_Arya_

_“WHAT? THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT. WHAT’S UP WITH YOUR DIRTY MIND?”_

A little part of her mind, though, whispers that wouldn’t be such a bad idea at all. Let her mind get a little dirty and just let it rule for a while, maybe just a bit of—

Her thoughts get interrupted by her phone again, which she still has in her hands. She decides to read this message right away, answer, and then bury her phone in the sand and don’t let it bother her anymore. She has something in mind that should keep her—both of them actually—quite occupied.

_Bran_

_“Yeah, right, whatever. Could you bring me ice cream anyway? Three Milks, please.”_

_Arya_

_“Fine.”_

With her phone out of her way, pizza forgotten, she crawls towards Jon and he watches her intently, his mouth tilted up in a gesture that speaks volumes of how much he _knows_ what she’s planning. She straddles him in a swift movement, knowing something fast will surprise him even if he knows what dances across her thoughts. His hands immediately find their way under her shirt, one resting against her waist, the other on her lower back; and judging by the surprised look on his eyes—Arya knew it would work—, it wasn’t a conscious movement. _Muscle memory, probably_ , she muses distracted. She has moved fast but now she goes slow, lowering herself towards his lips lazily, pressing herself against him .

Jon smiles. “Had enough pizza?” he whispers, amused.

She nods without realizing she’s biting her lip until she has to speak.

“I’m craving a—” a slight pause, his eyes are darker, and she has never wanted to kiss him more “a _different_ taste right now.”

And then they are kissing like an eager couple at prom night: messy and eager and hot. His mouth tastes like cheap beer and though Arya has always had more of a thing for distilled spirits, particularly the taste of whisky on his lips, she relishes delighted on the flavour. The taste of beer is never as good as it is from his mouth and she hums in appreciation for it, his body answering to the sound.

Jon holds her a little tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh, his tongue a little more insistent and her hand slips into his silky hair, her nails softly scratching the nape of his neck. He growls, she shivers, and now his lips are on her neck and her hips are pressing against his, hard and wanton and— _oh, gods, this feels good._

There’s something relaxing about their feelings being out in the open, about the fact that they are in their very first official date, young and carefree and juvenile and happy. But there’s something so desperate too, so intricate with instinct, so raw because she almost lost him, and he nearly died and they have been denying themselves this wonderful feeling, this wonderful truth, for reasons that seem so stupid now, so petty, so insignificant. And Jon tastes like future and his hands feel like safety and _he’s here,_ Arya tells herself, half-mad with want and desire and, she feels ridiculous for this, half-mad with love. _He’s here with me_.

She rocks, back and forth, and Jon digs his right hand into the left side of her hips—his arm’s around her, holding her close, tightly, desperately—so hard, there’s gonna be a bruise in the shape of his fingers tomorrow.

“I love you,” she thinks, not realizing she’s actually saying that out loud until he exhales right above her lips as if her words have given him life. He guides the movement of her hips with his arms and she throws her head back. “Gods, I love you.”

“Arya,” he answers with his voice breaking, his lips brushing against her throat and she’s still moving above him and— _fuck._

He grabs the back of her head as he hears her moan, brings her lips back to his and he is kissing her again with that delicious, delicious fire bleeding through his every move and she’s addicted to this feeling. This mixed feeling of so many things at once that just twirls inside her heart, around her heart. He has turned her into a hurricane and she thrives in how powerful it makes her feel.

She feels glorious.

“GET A ROOM!”

And now a bucket of ice cold water has been dropped over them both and Arya immediately stands still. Jon’s hands are still holding her too tight for her to move away from him so she stays right where she is, quiet and a little shocked. Their heavy breathing and the waves of the sea is the only thing they can hear after that shout and Jon gulps, his mouth not longer to attached to hers.

And then they burst out laughing with what little breath has been left in their lungs.

* * *

**_Then._ **

Jon’s room didn’t change much over the years after he left for The Wall. It still was Arya’s safe haven and it still was his room whenever he would visit so his stuff were constantly moving, dust never being allowed to settle in. Never truly abandoned, it still gave off the vibe of housing someone regularly, even if the real owner would just come from time to time when university and responsibility and longing would allow him to.

She had said goodbye to Jon as he left for university in the same spot she was sitting on at the moment. She would have to do the same thing again now and somehow it felt so, so different. She was the one leaving this time and farther away than Jon had left and she hadn’t had to say goodbye to the room at all back then. She had to now.

Maybe dust would find its home here after all once she was gone. Braavos was far away.

It made her both breathlessly happy and restlessly sad. She wanted to go, live abroad, see new places, meet new people. She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, though. At the same time, she wanted to be home—even if Winterfell didn’t always feel like home when Jon wasn’t there with her—and it made her feel cynical. The part that wanted to go felt like a betrayal to Stark, the part that wanted to stay felt like a betrayal to Arya.

And she was both.

What a bitter thought to have about your future: _it’s making me a traitor._

“You are brooding,” Arya raised her eyes at the sound of his voice, her heart fluttering ever so gently she thought it hadn’t happened at all, “and that’s _my_ thing.”

Jon smiled and Arya breathed. He was standing on his door frame, leaning against it in a seemingly relaxed posture that fooled no one. They hadn’t seen each other in months and it was too much, too long.

“Welcome home,” she said and it somehow felt more ominous that it should have, like goodbye was already hanging above their heads like the sword of Damocles. She forced herself to remain impassive, Jon saw through it.

“I felt the same, you know, that’s why I was so scared to tell you. I thought you would feel it too, that I was betraying home.” She laughed, she couldn’t help it. Trust Jon to know what was on her head. “You helped me see that that was not the case.”

“Did I?” Cynical, cynical, cynical. She _had_ felt betrayed back then, even if it was only a little bit. She had kept quiet about it though, because his happiness had meant much more. Jon had always meant much more.

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze drifting between hers quickly, as if analyzing the every moment of her irises. He walked closer, one knee resting on the edge of the mattress as he bent down at her level and Arya instinctively raised her face to meet his. His fingers threaded through the hair at her scalp and he showed no surprise when he only found short soft hair. She had cut it a few months ago, the undercut visible only when her hair was up, and it had grown just a little. He grabbed it and the length forced him to grab a little harder than usual. Arya parted her lips to breathe because suddenly it was much harder to do so.

“Will you come back to me?”

“Yes” the low volume of her voice dragged the s at the end and Jon’s sharp intake of breath was heaven.

He smiled that sharp, predatory smile that was _hers_ , just like his soft secret smile belonged to her too, and the breathless happy one, and the amused smirk that just lifted one corner of his lips. “I have a present for you.”

Her smile mirrored his. “Do we need to lock the door for it?” She wasn’t sure if she was just teasing or genuinely asking.

Jon’s eyes widened a little. “Arya!” _Then I guess that’s a no._ She only laughed at him and he shook his head. He kissed her forehead, his lips remaining on her skin longer than necessary. As he let her go and turned around to leave the room, she pursed her mouth in disappointment.

Her lips felt cold.

The expression on her face was gone by the time he looked back at her, an amused smile on her face instead. He got an unfamiliar set of keys out of his pocket, Honda’s “H” inside the rounded square big and bright in silver, and shook his fingers so they would make that tingling, acute sound Arya liked so much when she was a baby.

Her smile now turned breathless, disbelieving. “You didn’t.”

“Really, little wolf? You truly think I didn’t?”

“I have the Tuono! Why would you—”

He huffed. “You need a new one for Braavos.”  

She stole the keys from his hands and then raced him downstairs in a fit of careless laughter.

Her lips still felt cold.

* * *

**_Now._ **

It feels like it’s been hours but they are still laughing. Arya has come back to her original place on the large blanket and Jon is lying in the sand, trying to control his breathing. They had been so caught up in their little world, their attention solely on each other, they had completely forgotten they were in public.

 _Oh, gods, we were dry humping in a public place,_ she realizes.

The laughter starts again deep in her chest, vibrating in her throat, and just the fact she’s laughing makes Jon laugh again and it all starts over.

Technically, if it’s worth anything, they were in a _semi_ -public place since they were the only people on the beach—wait... if they _were_ the only people on the beach, then who had said that?

Arya stops laughing slowly, her breath trying desperately to get the air into her lungs before her maniatic laughter pushes it out, and searches her surroundings with her eyes. The only people she can see is an elderly couple walking hand in hand further down the beach from where they are resting. Her breath hitches and she has to concentrate to not burst out laughing. _Again._

“Jon,” she calls, he is hiding his face between his arms, his head almost buried in the sand. By the way his shoulders move, she knows he is still laughing. “Jon,” she insists, shaking his shoulder. He raises his head to look at her and his cheeks are flushed. “I think I know who shouted at us.”

“Who?” he follows her line of sight, eyes narrowing to see the disappearing couple that walk near the water and he _chortles_ . “Holy shit.” Arya smiles, wide. So wide the muscles in her face complain but the ache is vague and sweet and worth it. “Oh, by the _Gods_ ” Jon cries with mirth and then looks at her in the eyes, right into her eyes, and this sight is a memory Arya will keep in her mind. “I’m sure we gave them a good show at least.”

She winks. “Damn straight.”

Jon’s cheek are even redder if that’s possible and that’s how Arya realizes he’s actually _embarrassed._ She, on the other hand, is goddamn proud. The always-proper-in-public Jon was so enraptured he forgot where he was and he just went with it, his mind taken over with thoughts of her. Yeah, she’s fucking proud of that.

As he settles comfortably and grabs the forgotten slice of pizza he had in hand when Arya decided to shake things up a little, she settles back in a more comfortable position and takes a drink from her can of beer. She checks her phone to see 5 unread messages waiting for her.

They’re all from Bran.

_Bran_

_“Rickon wants some too. Swiss chocolate. And could you bring Mint chocolate chip for Meera? I’ll pay you once you get here.”_

_“Oh, bring Strawberry for Sansa too. She’s Margaery deprived and she could use some sugar in her system.”_

_“Bring her a lot, she needs a lot. She looks like a crack addict in withdrawal.”_

_“Seriously, she’s starting to freak me out.”_

_“Are you not answering because you are having sex with Jon?”_

The drink going down her throat gets a little stuck and she swallows hurriedly. Jon arches an eyebrow but says nothing as Arya coughs on the inside of her elbow. “I’m fine,” she croaks, “just went the wrong way.”

And then she types, pressing send fast and getting an answer immediately.

_Arya_

_“OH MY GOD, BRAN.”_

_Bran_

_“You were, weren’t you?”_

For a second, a part of her is actually scared he is somehow basing his inquiries in more than suppositions and he actually _saw_ them or something. Of course, that’s bullshit. The kid may be like a God most of the time, knowing things he shouldn’t, but he isn’t actually omniscient.

She shakes her head as she sends another message.

_Arya_

_“Goodbye, brother. Tell my precious wild wolf that I love him.”_

Since there’s no immediate answer this time, she blocks her phone and focuses on what little pizza lies waiting in the box. Jon looks at her, contemplative, and she arches an eyebrow in silent question. He smiles and she knows he is still thinking of something so she waits in silence, enjoying the pizza that has gone cold.

Eventually, he speaks.

“It’s not a bad idea, you know”. Since her mouth is full, way too full this time, she just tilts her head. Jon’s smile gets crooked, a more wicked tint to it, and Arya shivers though she is not sure why. He leans in to get closer. “Getting a room. It’s not a bad idea.”

Ah, that’s why she shivers, then. Human bodies can be so smart. Her smile mirrors his.

“Oh, _yes, please._ ” She practically purrs and lowers her face so she can stare at him from her eyelashes, let her eyes roam lazily over him. She leans in as well, the distance growing smaller. “Better yet, let’s stay here in Seagard tonight. Let’s go to a nice hotel. We can even ask for champagne and roses and whatnot. After all, we’ve done everything here first. First kiss, first date… I mean, I don’t usually do this in first dates, but I kinda have the feeling you are special”

“Oh? Are you getting romantic on me, Arya Stark?” She kisses him as an answer, soft and slow as he holds her chin gently. Then, she bites his lower lip. Hard. And pulls away with a smug smile. Jon laughs and pulls her close to kiss her again, a more consuming kiss this time. “That answer was loud and clear,” he whispers before pulling away.

Her phone vibrates and, as he lies back down, she checks Bran’s new message.

_Bran_

_“Your favoritism for Rickon is starting to show. And you know what else is starting to show? The fact that you totally ignored my question. Like, I don’t want details, but seriously, sis, the coolest Stark generation has been waiting for the sexual tension between you two to stop. We’ve been waiting for so long. Arya, please, just let the subject rest in peace and admit it”_

She’s shaking her head at the long message, an incredulous smile on her lips and Jon seems to notice.

“Still Bran?”

“Yeah,” she answers with her eyes on the phone. She starts typing a response. “This kid, seriously.”

_Arya_

_“Oh, God: Dad, Uncle Benjen and the spirits of Lyanna and Brandon have been waiting for this? Holy shit. And here I thought Dad was totally clueless. Damn. About Rickon being my favourite: I never truly hid it. Don’t feel bad, tho, you know you are my second favorite. Give Sansa some love too (PS: You know, we could be the coolest generation if y’all didn’t make me carry the weight of coolness by my lonesome self)”_

She can feel Jon getting closer, the soft sound of fabric being moved, and now he’s sitting next to her. “What are you two talking about?”

“You and me.” She lets out a little laugh. “And Rickon being my favourite.”

Jon chuckles. “So cat’s out of the bag?”

“About what precisely?”

He seems to be pondering about it for a second as Arya stares at the three little moving dots next to Bran’s name. He’s typing a response.

“Both.”

Bran’s new message lights up her screen.

_Bran_

_“And Robb? (PS: THAT’S AN ADMISSION, AS FAR AS I’M CONCERNED. GOOD FOR YOU, SIS. Seriously, use a condom. And, btw, are you saying Jon’s not cool? For shame, Arya, be kind to your husband)”_

Arya makes this sound at the back of her throat that oscillates between a chuckle, a horrified gasp and an incredulous huff. _Husband? Ok, kiddo, calm down._

She answers Jon first. “Yeah, it’s out.”

Jon tilts his mouth, as if deciding how he feels about it. Then shrugs. “They were gonna know eventually.”

She presses send to her new message and then turns to him.

_Arya_

_“Give Robb a broccoli, he’ll appreciate it more. (PS: I’M NO ONE’S WIFE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE)”_

“Yeah, they kind of knew already. Bran and Sansa at least, the Gods know how clueless Robb is.” At the mention of Robb’s name, Jon actually looks worried. Arya huffs. “You have _nothing_ to worry about.”

Jon shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m not so sure. Robb’s crazy, you know. Must be the lack of sugar in his life.”

“Talking about sugar,” Arya says, her phone showing her a new text, “remind me to buy ice cream before we go. We have a couple of orders from my siblings.”

Jon only nods and she reads Bran’s text, answering right away and quickly ending the conversation.

_Bran_

_“Don’t monopolize Jon for too long. I know he’s your husband and all but we want to see him too.”_

_Arya_

_“God, you are infuriating. I’ll try but I make no promises. We are travelling back tomorrow and we have to make a stop at White Harbor. We’ll probably be there by dinner.”_

_Bran_

_“Why, thank you, I’ve been learning from the best. I’ll let Mother know so she’ll stop bugging me about your whereabouts. Love you! Don’t forget the ice cream!”_

_Arya_

_“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”_

She actually turns her phone off, knowing her mother will probably try to call her, and then looks at Jon with her big grey eyes. Jon seems to be waiting for her and she smiles, eyes narrowed in a suggestive nature.

“So… hotel room?”

Jon raises his beer as a cheer. “Hotel room!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S IT. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, I truly do. Please, leave your opinion on a comment, I'll appreciate every word with all my heart (Actually, any kind of feedback is appreciated ~~(but I'm a sucker for comments, they are, like, my life source)~~.)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and you'll hear from me eventually because I have fics that need to be written (soon, hopefully. I try). I love you all!


End file.
